


Up the Winding Stair

by PatchworkMermaid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, BAMF Hux, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cannibalism, F/M, Has Nothing to do with Canon Universe, Heavily Borrows from Dungeons and Dragons, Hux is Not Nice, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Monster Kylo Ren, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Slow Build, Spiders, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkMermaid/pseuds/PatchworkMermaid
Summary: Armitage Hux is an adventurer and monster hunter for hire, best of his village and afraid of no monster or man. His newest quest takes him to the swamps.Poor, pretty Ari doesn't listen when warned that those who venture deep within these particular swamps ne’er come back again.





	Up the Winding Stair

The musclebound brownish red troll settled back contently against the sun baked stone railing of his bridge. Moving out of Republic territory had not been preferred, but he enjoyed the new privacy. Only two self proclaimed heroes had challenged him, otherwise nothing but good eating had walked his way. Two chubby little appetizers had wandered too far from mommy that morn, so he could go without food for a while longer. He had everything a troll could want at the moment: the bridge he laid claim to crafted sturdily with red, tan, and brown stones all arranged in a pleasing arch; a weak population to torment and feed from; and peaceful solitude during the rest of his time. The deep river below burbled happily. 'Twas a healthy, wide ribbon through the land that discouraged swimming with its habit of dragging heads under. He monopolized the only convenient passage across for miles; he’d made sure of this by crushing and chasing away any sign of new construction. 

The large male straightened the knee-length sarong he’d kept and adjusted since childhood, bits of clothing that caught his fancy from previous meals stitched in to form a patchwork of colors. Running a thick, surprisingly groomed hand over his necklace of small skulls and metacarpals, then the polished fibula fragment fashioned into a septum piercing, the troll considered beginning a fence with the unused…materials lying just below. A small silhouette set against the deep blue backdrop of evening caught his large square pulpilled eyes: an intruder. 

“Oy! Halt! Ye’ go no farther waif!” The fearsome guardian bellowed. The slender, cloaked form tilted its head up to consider the large, brutish monster blocking the only bridge for miles from under their cowl. 

“Is that so?” A softly accented tenor queried. “It’s been said that you enjoy riddles, perhaps I may try one?” 

The large reddish face sneered down at him, not in the mood to work for so little meat, “Look Tiny, I’m tryin ta be nice here. You’da hardly make a snack, and not a mighty tasty one like the wee younguns. Not a one has solved this’n since I be moving in,” when this failed to move the traveler (strange since the talk of their young either riled humans or sent them running), the hulking brute sighed, his new project would have to wait, “Suppose’n I could use yer’ bones to pick mah teeth clean. Here goes: At night they come without bein’ fetched, “ he swept a beefy arm over his head, “By day they’re lost without bein’ stolen. What are they?” He leaned back and crossed his arms in smugness, awaiting the pleasure of an earned kill. One could not fight nature; trolls would always love bridges and riddles. While humans would always think they could outsmart and dominate trolls only to become dinner.

Without a hint of confusion or frustration, the man lifted his head to the sky, pointing up towards the pinpricks of light beginning to appear in the deep blue sky, flashing sharp jade eyes, “The stars.”

Stunned, the beast faltered, not sure how to respond. This had never happened since he began his morbid game, tradition of all trolls. The point was not to lose, it was to kill whatever fool wanted to try. Jagged teeth grit in irritation, “That ‘un was too easy! Try this’n: You heard me before, yet you hear me agin, Then I die, ‘till you call me again,” leaning menacingly over the far smaller figure, totally eclipsing the man in his monstrous shadow, he hungrily growled out, “ What…am….I?” The troll grinned once more, waiting to watch the beautiful panic, fear, confusion and finally resignation from the smug weakling. Drool pooled on his lip. He might even get a good chase in if his quarry rabbited. 

Throwing out a hand in disinterest, the man answered solemnly, “You’re an echo.”

Ignoring the creature’s hands and jagged teeth clenching in rage, a pale face with delicate features tilted up to meet the eight-foot eye line, “That’s two now, might I pass?” 

Scowling, pride wounded, the troll now only wanted the little cheater out of his sight. Even a troll had a set of ethics, though twisted. He stepped to the side. He’d get the next one, and he had plenty of time to think up new questions until some fool stumbled across the bridge. He was rather proud of the reputation he had built with the weaker species in the area.

A strange THWIP sound hit large ears a second before incredible pain dug deep into his back, five more following rapidly, each nudging the disbelieving troll forward, “Wha-?” He distantly felt nimble feet running up his back, before sharpness licked across his throat. Knees slammed into the ground while quickly numbing arms clutched at a now dripping throat. Vision darkening and blurring, eyes tracked at what he’d thought of as a worthless waif. Merciless sea glass green eyes grabbed his attention, how had he missed it? The eyes of a killer.

“Here's one for you now,” voice softly mocking, “The one who makes it, sells it. The one who buys it never uses it. The one that uses it never knows that he’s using it. You do not deserve one. What is it?” A gurgle that may have been speech answered. The human gave a disdainful sniff, “Wrong,” before practically cleaving the thick muscular column in half, fingers scattering to the ground, and bringing the red beast down with a large puff of dirt. 

The sly traveler sliced off the ugly brownish fabric from around the beast, fashioning it into a simple sack before setting to work.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A disgustingly loud thwack, accompanied by the spray of serosanguinous fluid landed in front of Poe Dameron, commander of the Rebel Guild of D’Qar. An eye. There was a kriffing square pupil eye staring unnervingly at him, bulging arteries trailing out the back and across his desk. It took all of his immense pride and suave demeanor to not shriek and swat it away. The naturally tanned, handsome face pulled into a grimace as a huge hand with only finger nubs left followed more gently.

Exasperated hazel eyes rose to inspect the troll-slayer, indigo so deep it neared black hinted at wealth wrapped close to his figure, black leggings clung tightly to impossibly long legs, half hidden behind a bulky black hooded cloak, giving the illusion of a large silhouette. A slender gloved hand pushed the hood back to reveal a pretty, lightly freckled face set in a strict expression, topped with short, radiant coppery red hair. 

Forever an incorrigible flirt (even after the cruel defilement of his work station) Poe plastered on one of his winning smiles, “See you got the job done, lovely.” Pale eyes unflinchingly met his own, never wavering, “Mayhap you and I could go to the pub to celebrate?” met with the silence and stoicism of clear disinterest, he reluctantly put the flirting aside for later, “Truly impressive. We’ve lost two men trying to bring this monster down, and at least eight people while it’s been in the area. Thank you,” Poe finished with a genuinely grateful nod and somber tone. 

Light jade eyes never faltered; Red was one cool customer, “I take it you didn’t do this purely out of the goodness of your heart. I have your reward here,” his gloved hand pulled out a small satchel from the top drawer and handed it to the taller man. When Red stayed rooted to the spot, a movement from the back corner of his office brought the leader’s attention to his dark complexioned cohort, Finn, preparing to jump in if Red proved greedy. Poe gestured him to stay put for now.

“And, as our posting suggested, the Rebel Guild is looking for new blood, would you be interested?” He offered. 

Thankfully, Red finally nodded, “That would be acceptable,” a soft imperial accent accompanied the words. Poe would not be surprised if the man turned out to be a child on the losing side. He couldn't judge; their own staff user, Rey, shared the accent. 

“Ah, one more thing,” Red halted at the doorway, but kept his back turned, “Why didn’t you bring back the head as is customary?” Poe suppressed a shiver (feeling a tad grateful the man had rebuffed his advances) at the half smirk Red gave when he turned his head to answer, “Too heavy, besides, I’ve found it makes an effective deterrent for monsters,”

When the door clattered shut behind the scary svelte man , Finn turned to him, “He kriffing piked that head, didn’t he?”

Poe laughed, “You wanna go check buddy?” 

Upon viewing the now horrified greenish face, Poe laughed harder. He shared this uneasiness though. Something seemed a bit off with their newest guild member.

Upon vacating the Rebel’s headquarters, the newest recruit crossed a familiar warrior, “So, did my good word get you in, Ari?”

The blonde in front of him stood a good four inches over him and packed twice the muscle he had. Her strong form easily carried her religiously polished chain mail and lance upon her back. Ari smirked cockily up at the tanned face and gray eyes he’d known since childhood, “No, my elimination of the monster did,”

“Oh please,” she teased as she grabbed hold of a thin bicep, “You couldn't even carry the wretch’s head to the drop point. My recommendation granted their favor.”

The smaller wrenched his arm away, retaliating, “I couldn't be bothered to, you mean! I refuse to sully my robes with such low-bred filth. I doubt you could do any better; you couldn’t solve a riddle to save your life, Gwenevere Phasma!” His cloak swirled about him as he turned to get in her face. 

“I have no need for trickery- I would face it head on, like so!” taking advantage of their closeness, she swiftly got the thin man into a headlock. He squeaked indignantly when she ran her callous fingers through his fiery hair before ruffling it with a laugh. 

Ari helplessly batted at her and tried to wriggle his way out. The amazon finally took mercy when her old friend joined her laughter, “Okay, alright, you helped!” He ineffectively brushed his hair back, “Dammit Gwen, I thought we were on the same side, you brute.”

The warrior woman brushed off the jibe easily, “Exactly. With you here, we’ll get out of Arkanis within the year.”

If only life could be so straight-forward.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

“Whoa, watch out there BB!” Poe called to his little golem pet. The small rolling rock creature made a clacking sound of presumably reassurance back after it dodged a mini stampede rampaging over the grassy field. A band of wolf riding goblins had been causing trouble and the Rebels’ Guild were here to turn them away- a rather mundane task meant to test Ari’s ability to work with his new guild, no doubt.

Rey, a wiry young woman with an eccentric hairstyle, darted about, swatting the little fiends off their vicious mounts with her iron staff. Finn, a man of medium build with far too kind eyes, followed up by knocking their heads with the hilt of his sword or the edge of his shield- the softhearted fool. Clearly, his group’s goal centered around scaring the numerous nuisances off instead of killing the simple creatures. 

Nonsense. These disgusting eyesores only understood one thing- Armitage lined up his shot- force. 

The bolt ripped through the air to lodge within the lead hobgoblin’s thick skull. It only took a minute for the horde to realize they were now leaderless. They quickly panicked and dispersed, not even bothering to collect their unconscious comrades.

Three sets of furious eyes locked onto him; it seemed his allies did not appreciate his effectiveness. Bow strapped securely, a long fingered hand nonchalantly repositioned the dark hood to shield his easily burned face; he took care of the problem. The three adventurers seemingly expected him to submit under the scrutiny of their indignation. They clearly knew nothing about him. 

Rey finally broke when their cold new recruit kneeled beside the downed hobgoblin, “I thought that we agreed that this would be a bloodless extraction! That they were acting as pests more than anything and that- what the hell are you doing!” The sprightly brunette finished with a cry. 

Pale eyebrows rose as the green eyes lazily glanced up to the horrified woman, locking with her chestnut eyes as he unceremoniously yanked the bolt from the small skull, with a wet, sucking sound, “Retrieving my bolt of course,” Finn looked ill, Rey turned puce, and Poe visibly prepared to run interference as he strapped his gauntlets to his hip, BB now quivering behind his legs, “I don't exactly have the funds to buy every one I launch. I wouldn't be here if I could do that.”

 

Poe quickly grabbed Rey’s arm when she lunged towards the callous man. The young woman remembered herself at the warm squeeze on her arm and calmed, but continued to seethe. The redhead remained infuriatingly unconcerned as he explained, “Gently shooing those creatures away would not resonate within their tiny minds; they require a more concrete show of intent,” he efficiently wiped the brain matter from his bolt, demonstrating much more care for his weapon than the dead creature crumpled at his feet, “Why should it matter? Goblins are an inferior species anyway, quick to overpopulate and menace the land, no better than rats.” 

Finn burst before Rey this time, “It matters because they haven't hurt anyone! What you did, things like that breed grudges, wars!” The frustration overcame the normally gentle man’s speech as he paced and furiously waved his arms, sword thankfully sheathed. 

Ari was never one to back down, “Or the beasts could have become emboldened to attack by our lack of aggression, either way, they are easily dispatched.”

“Red, please,” the leader of their small group beseeched for peace. Sea glass eyes glared coldly back, but he stilled his tongue. He could never understand the useless sentiment others wasted on mere beasts or tools- he curled his lip as the tiny golem clacked at him in an unmistakably sassy way, before scurrying off. 

These people were almost more trouble than worth the pay- almost. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The land he hailed from was not known for its fertility; nonetheless, desperate men that had already traded their medals and weapons for food, slaved away in the relatively new fields, desperate to grow more every year. It never yielded a lot, never enough, but if they had already damned their children to exile they would not damn them to starvation as well. 

The marketplace had dwindled in merchandise, but that did not stop hungry children from snatching what they could. Ari dispassionately watched a dark haired preteen flee from the furious merchant, red apple and loaf of bread cradled securely in his arms. The boy possessed some wisdom; the only alternate payment that particular merchant would accept would be far more damaging than a beating. The once bustling manufacturing quarter had been converted to more domestic tasks such as clothing making, farm equipment producing, product repair, and a touch of under the table smuggling. 

It might be said that Armitage was lucky that his father still held some prominence, that his family kept their home to themselves, that he was a successful hunter instead of a thieving merchant, exhausted farmer, or starving orphan. Ari didn’t care for such sentiments; he just wanted out. 

Growing up, his bedtime stories were filled with the strength and pride of a thriving town, rich off the weapons and warriors they produced. In times of war, prim and proper Arkanis had prospered enough to sustain itself through the peaceful ones. It was a town where all food and clothing were traded from other towns and villages because such mundane work was beneath them. This all changed after the Republic established themselves. One of their first orders of business was to punish the cities they had taken power from by discouraging trade with outside parties and banning trade with Arkanis entirely. Thus, resulting in the delayed decay of the once lovely city. 

Started before Armitage could speak, he held no value in old politics, only in power and how to obtain it personally, regardless of what side it belonged to. 

His father, on the other hand, preferred to revel in a time long passed. Brendol Hux Sr. may be content to sit around and blatantly disregard the state of decay brought about from the trade embargo forced by the Republic Council of Cities, but Armitage Hux would not be so shortsighted and foolish as his father. The only way to make it in this world was to fight tooth and nail to gain essential resources- few of which could be found in town any longer. Armitage would obtain the money to leave this shit-hole properly with Gwen, his mother, brother, and sister in tow, his father be damned. They would not bring the fool or his shameful name with them. Old Commandant Brendol remained trapped in firm denial, not that the war criminal could leave. 

“Are you barmy?! Staying with that guild was the best shot I had out of this ruin!” The tall and slim, young red haired man stridently confronted a much broader, older man with white encroaching on his own orangish hair. The ice in his blue eyes matched his son’s perfectly. 

The elder tutted, “Now Armitage, how many times do I have to tell you boy- a Hux needs no help, especially from those Rebel scum!” Brendol Hux was no fool; he knew if the man before him earned enough, he would take his mother and siblings along, then Brendol would truly be alone. 

The younger’s pale green eyes flared in cold rage, always in control, the most he would ever express would be in his eyes and clenching in hands, “How does that pride feel when your wife and daughter go hungry most nights?” The larger man’s own fists clenched in outrage, he surely would have struck any other for such insolence, but this son had no compunctions in striking back.

His second born had always been the most headstrong of his offspring by a head and a hand, consistently questioning and debating his decisions; though it was not until the boy reached his nineteenth spring that he showed how unwilling he was to remain passive to his father’s aggression like his other family members. Despite the young man’s wiry frame, he proved himself a capable warrior, finding work from neighboring cities as a sell sword, or more accurately a sell crossbow. While the boy did not hold the title of proper heir, he still brought shame to the Hux name by begging for the work of offing monsters, like a commoner. This ambition and strength would have made for the perfect heir if they were aimed toward the proper directions. 

“You karking sabotaged me! If you had just denied our unfortunate relation like any other time, I would still have consistent work! Surely then you would not talk so often of Camilla to your disgusting “business associates”.’

This finally set the larger man off. Brendol Sr. lunged at the blight in his reputation, and unwillingly rapidly rolled over his progeny’s shoulders onto the cold, hard ground. A slim booted foot rested threateningly over his throat, carelessly pushing a choking cough from the grounded older man. Slits of pale green pinned him in place as effectively as the boot, “You should thank those associates of yours with your own lazy ass for making you such a hazard to kill. You owe them many times over,” the boot dug into the throat under it before lifting away. The grounded man desperately rolled to the side gasping and coughing for air, while the younger dispassionately sauntered away. 

Pushing up his torso, tearing blue eyes met the base of a sickly cloaked figure. A surprisingly strong voice greeted him, “ I would never tolerate such disobedience from my own,” Angry blue eyes shot up to confront the condescending figure when they met the face of a monster, “Though my boy has his moments….Perhaps, we could help one another…” 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

The slender young man steeled himself as he entered the growing barrenness of the previously opulent home. Brendol, he would not address the vile man as father, had fucked them all over with his misplaced pride, leaving him to shamefully deliver the news that he would be off to seek out odd jobs once more. 

The lovely face of his mother lit up upon his arrival. Gone a fort night, he carefully scanned her petite figure with copper hair and green eyes for any sign of new injury. While he loved to escape Arkanis whenever possible, he loathed leaving her with Brendol. The man did not strike his wife, Calla, often nowadays, but the last outburst had required Armitage to seek out a small green, impish cleric to draw the woman from unending sleep. Thin arms wrapped around him, thinner than a year prior, “It’s so good to have you back love, you shouldn’t leave your poor mother to worry so long!” While sweet, they both knew this was far from realistic.

“Ari!” A voice as pleasant as a bell chimed. A tall strawberry blonde tugged her shy brother behind to the foyer. The only features they all truly inherited from Brendol was his notable height, Armitage’s cold gaze, and Brendol Jr.’s eye and hair color; most other attributes were thankfully inherited from their fair mother. 

“It’s been an age! What have you brought us?” Camilla, a taller, blonder, and tanner version of their mother entreated. 

“Mila!” The shy eldest scolded softly, “That is n-not how you gr-greet someone!” 

Camilla huffed in resignation, “Alright, Techie, sorry Ari. So lovely to see you brother,” hugging him briskly, “Now, give up the goods!” At this her sweet tone dropped as she pulled away and stuck her hands out in a supplicating gesture. 

Their mother and Techie rolled their eyes in exasperation, while Armitage just smirked and pulled his bulky canvas bag off of his shoulder to set it on the floor, reaching in, “For the greedy alchemist,” he pulled out a coppery yellow octahedron shaped gem, “Is that…how did you…?” The bow-user only offered an enigmatic smirk. This time the squeal and arms thrown around him were more heartfelt, “Orichalcum! Wow, wow, wow! You are the best! Have I told you that lately?” The young woman landed a big, wet kiss on her cringing brother’s cheek before snatching the orb and darting away, presumably to her lab. 

Calla offered her son an apologetic smile for his sister’s antics, but Armitage felt contentment by any manner of happiness he could bring them. “For the mechanist,” He reached back in his satchel to offer his older, though meeker, brother an interesting piece of eye ware he had finagled. They appeared to be goggles with numerous lenses that adjusted in front of the main piece to magnify an artisan or craftsperson’s work. He imagined that would be rather useful for his gear head of a sibling. Perhaps it could also increase the productivity of his work to increase profit for the household.

The timid ponytailed man’s face lit up with wonder as he took the mechanism, “Th-thanks Arm-mie,” it was impossible to determine if the poor man’s stutter was due to the stress caused from his exacting father. Either way, it amplified the cold man’s ire, forever disappointed in his weak-willed son. While close, Ari gave a secretive smile, “Gwen sends her love. She hasn't been ousted by the guild yet, so you may not see her for a time,” Techie turned red to the roots, lowering his head to hid behind his long orangish hair. 

Armitage turned to his mother, “No,” she smiled, “You’re my child, I should be providing for you. The wage you bring is more than enough,” not deterred by this, he pulled out a rare treat for his mother in recent times, chocolate. Calla hesitated guiltily, “Now mother, you know I prefer berries,” relenting, she hugged her child tightly before accepting the treat. Calla drew her two boys into the large living area that had once been full, now only the small area in front of the hearth was filled in to make for a cozy sitting spot. After a time, Camilla strutted into the room, still elated by her new alchemy material. Enjoying the rest, Armitage sat back and gazed upon the only people that mattered to him, letting their voices wash over him. He would do anything to protect them and have them enjoy the comforts they deserved, anything.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As lovely as it was to spend time with his family, he knew the wage from his short time in the guild would not last long, so a new job would be essential to find. Though more pressing was avoiding the father he had one upped earlier. He’d not truly resided in his family home for coming on three years now.

“A-armie, w-wait!” The copper haired man turned to find his orange haired brother at the doorway, “I’ve made y-you n-new bolts. They sh-should be more aerodynamic th-than your c-current ammun-nition.” Unfortunately, his brother had learned painfully how annoying others found his speech impediment, none more so than their father. Armitage made a point to be patient with the huddled man, nodding and gesturing him for further explanation. Techie gave a shy grin, as his confidence bloomed he straightened out more and more. The ponytailed man loved technical talk and his brother was one of the only people to indulge him.

Thanking his sibling one last time, the crossbow user set out into the night to the small cottage in the woods he had claimed as his own. Monsters were not uncommon to find outside of the village walls, so he never worried his home would be overtaken by other humans. As for other intruders, Camilla had helped him out with creating a seal of protection drawn on the door, which could only be deactivated with the yellow kyber crystal he kept on a necklace. The substance rare enough to not be easily reproduced, but not valuable enough for his alchemist sister to hoard. 

Before he could enter, a chill hit the back of his neck; someone was watching him. Rapidly arming himself, the young man spun around to aim his bow at a haggard looking cloaked figure. Not one to rely entirely on appearances, the redhead kept his aim leveled at the figure’s eye-height. Liches were described similarly, and he would never seek out one of those horrors. He loaded his banishment ward bolt; he never missed. 

Bony hands, thankfully with flesh, rose in surrender, “I apologize for startling you young one, surely you would not shoot an old man with a job to offer,” 

When no threatening movements were performed, Armitage slowly lowered his crossbow, not yet returning it to his back, “A job?” He clarified. 

The stranger’s hands lowered and a crooked grin appeared on the only visible part of the man’s face under that encompassing hood, “Yes,” a strong, resonating voice answered, “I am a traveling apothecary. While the potions I make can heal maladies and prolong life, they can not preserve my youthful vitality. I require several mushrooms and toadstools that only grow in a dangerous swamp,” Armitage had learned that where silence leads people to talk their mind, verbal contribution could be manipulated upon. He remained silent, “I would be willing to pay quite handsomely for someone to retrieve them for me. I have heard you are the most capable warrior in the province…” He relented; this could be exactly the break he needed. 

“What makes the area dangerous?” The elderly waif drew closer while pulling a worn map from one large sleeve. “Might I have a light to show you the area?” The redhead reluctantly shifted the bow to one arm and disarmed his door to let the stranger in before him. He lit candles about his home to bring a dull glow to the hovel, finishing with the lone lantern.

The hunched figure sat his map at the only small desk in the house, bringing out a quill and pen from a large knapsack the younger had not noticed before. “This,” a gnarled finger pointed to an area not terribly far from the province, “is Darthani Swamp. It is difficult to traverse with many sinking spots. If you are careful and observant, you should be able to see them, as the will o’ wisp usually mark these areas. Crocodiles and large snakes are not uncommon from what the nearby lizard folk report. There has also been talk of bullywugs and a hag traversing the area,” the old man was clearly well traveled to have such contacts and knowledge. 

Armitage had never ventured into the area, or any swamp in his travels, “What are..bullywugs?”

The mouth turned up in a knowing smile, “Bullywugs are like lizardfolk, but are a like a human crossed with a frog. They tend to be more aggressive than their lizard neighbors though.

“The ingredients I seek grow in the very deepest depths of the area riiight here,” he marked with a flourish. “Fungi love the dark you know,” he amended when given a dubious look.

“How many days travel will this be?” A rasping cackle cut the air, “Eight days travel for me, but you are young,” startlingly black eyes stared him down in an intense manner, “You should be much faster.”

Hux looked at the nondescript map, by his guess, he would be there and back by that time, give or take two days by how difficult the swamp is to maneuver in and how difficult it was to find his targets, “What is the pay?” 

Pale green eyes widened in disbelief when a frail hand dropped a heavy coin pouch onto the desk, allowing the top to peek open to show the validity of the gold, “As I said, I will pay handsomely for your trouble.”

How could he refuse? 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sitting on the side of his modest hay-made bed, the red haired adventurer looked down at the triad of potions the old merchant had given him in the last candle light, reflecting on their last exchange before turning in:

_“What is all this for?” He eyed the semi-transparent red and chunky blackish potions very skeptically. Barely keeping a gag in when catching a whiff off one._

__

__

_A wrinkled, close-lipped grin formed beneath the hood, “Many terrible creatures lurk in the swamp, not all of them can be seen. They morph and disfigure the bodies of the unprepared in many inventive, unnatural ways, usually so they may feast upon them. That potion protects against such mischief,” he pointed to the red one, “While the other protects the mind from misguiding of the swamp gas. You have never met anyone else who’d ventured into the Darthani Swamps because it loathes to let anyone go.”_

__

__

_When the decrepit figure turned to dig into his bag once more, Armitage let a drop from each bottle fall on to the leaves of ivy creeping through his window. When the plant did not shrivel or show any worrisome signs, he relaxed minutely. He’d test a bit on the orange stray that hung around his hovel too. If they remained well come sunrise, he would drink the concoctions._

__

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_“If all goes well, I may contract you as a gatherer to my ingredients. The potions I will provide would pay for themselves that way. I would pay handsomely, of course, to lessen the tax on these old bones. I have traveled this route for many a year and thus have placed guiding sigils in order to navigate the area. It’s almost impossible otherwise, especially at my age! Here,” he handed his new employee a red kyber crystal attached to a necklace, “This will help guide you. A map would not be much help even if anyone bothered to script one specifically for the area…Ah! I almost forgot!” a ragged hand triumphantly plucked a skin from a small pocket in the bag, “You will also need to apply this salve twice daily to keep the rot at bay.”_

__

__

_This snapped the pale man’s attention back, “The rot?” That did not sound promising._

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_"Now surely you have heard of the most striking symptom of prolonged traveling in an evil swamp like Darthani? It rots the soul, though it always starts with the limbs,” he affirmed thoughtfully, “Where do you think the zombies come from,” the apothecary condescended. The redhead puffed up in wounded pride, he was known as a rather brilliant tactician around the area; he did not appreciate that tone._

__

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_“Apply this salve twice daily to anything you don't want to decay,” Armitage grimaced; he had in fact seen someone catch this in their foot. The only solution was amputation._

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Ari huffed a sigh as he pinched out the candle beside his bed. By the look and smell of the concoctions, he felt honestly unsure if he preferred them to be legitimate and the quest to be a doorway into the regular work he’d been hunting for. Oh well, if they were poisonous, he’d simply kill the old codger and take his gold. This situation seemed simply too good to be true.


End file.
